


If I Could See Myself (Through Your Eyes)

by wlwstevengrogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And a flirt, Bucky is a charmer, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oops, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, Skirtchasing, Steve is self concious, but there is no ch 3 yet, smut in ch 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wlwstevengrogers/pseuds/wlwstevengrogers
Summary: Steve was fine with the fact that no girl had hardly ever looked at him, much less touched him; it’s not like he was much to look at. He was ninety-five pounds and had about as much muscle definition as a dishrag, his eyes were too big for his head and his hair was a dull shade of blonde that never had the right sheen that gals seemed to like. He didn’t see why any of them would ever look at him like he was some piece of candy.He didn’t see why Bucky would either.He could dream, though.Well, he could if he could catch a wink of sleep.





	1. If I Already Want You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago but never finished it so ! in honor of infinity war wrecking me, here's a fic about some happier, more innocent times.

Steve really didn’t need any proof that Bucky didn’t see him in _ that  _ way. 

But boy, sometimes he felt like Bucky was just trying to hit him over the head with it. 

Bucky had brought another girl home and, being used to this, Steve made himself scarce and stayed in his room; out of sight, out of mind. Bucky’s girl for the night wouldn’t even know that Steve was there. 

The problem, though, was that once Bucky and said girl decided to head up into Bucky’s bedroom, Steve could hear  _ everything.  _ The wall that his bed was pushed against was the only shared wall with Bucky’s room, where his bed was pushed against the same wall.

Which Bucky had insisted on so he could hear if Steve was having an asthma attack in the middle of the night and so he wouldn’t have to check up on Steve every half an hour at night when he was sick (only every hour.) It made sense to Steve and he didn’t want to be such a large burden on his best friend, so he had agreed. 

What neither of them had thought through, was this. 

The bed was rhythmically thudding against the shared wall and the sounds of a woman’s voice (whom Steve had recalled being named Mary,) filled the air with high pitched moans and whimpers. At the same time, Bucky was grunting and groaning in time with the sound of the bed thudding against the wall. Just as Steve thought they couldn’t get any louder, the obscene sounds skin slapping together and heavy panting was added to the chorus. 

Steve threw his pillow over his head and tried not to listen. 

It didn’t work. 

He considered, for a moment, going to sleep on the couch in the living room, but quickly ruled that out because he would much rather not be seen by whatever girl Bucky had brought home. So, he pressed the pillow harder against his ear and tried to focus on something-- literally anything-- else. 

It wasn’t that Steve wasn’t happy for his friend; he knew Bucky was the biggest skirt-chaser in all of Brooklyn and enjoyed doing it just fine. He was more jealous than anything. Not jealous of the fact that Bucky could have any dame he wanted with just a charming smile and a little sweet talking. Steve was fine with the fact that no girl had hardly ever looked at him, much less touched him; it’s not like he was much to look at. He was ninety-five pounds and had about as much muscle definition as a dishrag, his eyes were too big for his head and his hair was a dull shade of blonde that never had the right sheen that gals seemed to like. He didn’t see why any of them would ever look at him like he was some piece of candy. 

He didn’t see why Bucky would either. 

He could dream, though.

  
Well, he could if he could catch a wink of sleep. 

Steve would never say it aloud, mostly because he knew Bucky would be  _ disgusted  _ if he knew, but Steve was jealous of all the girls Bucky would take out and bring back home because he wanted to  _ be _ one of them. He wanted, more than anything, to dress up in the nicest clothes he owned and go out with Bucky to a restaurant they could afford, have a nice time, and then come back and have Bucky treat him just like he treats all the gals he brought home. 

He didn’t want to be Bucky’s girl, he just wanted to be  _ Bucky’s _ .

The pounding against the wall began to get quicker and Steve was pulled out of his thought and directed back to the breathy moans of Bucky’s girl and the deep grunts he was making each time his thrusts pushed the bed against the wall. He heard Bucky grunt once more, this time more loudly than all the others, before the sounds digressed into heavy panting. 

Steve relaxed a little as the movement in the other room subsided and the air became still. All that could be heard now were soft whispers, all of which were hardly audible or understandable to Steve on the other side of the wall. He removed the pillow from over his head and relaxed on it as he normally would, no longer concerned about muffling the sounds that had been traveling through the walls.

As he stared up at the cracking paint of the ceiling, somewhere within his chest, he felt a dull, empty throb. 

He tried his best to fall asleep after that, tossing and turning every which way until he eventually heard the light in the other room click on and the door open. Bucky’s voice floated like music through their apartment as he guided Mary to the door. Always the gentleman, Bucky offered and insisted on walking her home, but she repeatedly refused, saying that it was only a few blocks. Steve heard Bucky press her, saying that he didn’t think it was safe for  _ a sweet think like her _ to be walking home so late at night; she finally wore down and, with a soft giggle, she allowed him to walk her home. 

The front door of the apartment shut and Steve instantly opened his door, allowing some much needed fresh air into the room. He hadn’t noticed how  _ hot _ he had become in his room, or, after a visit to the bathroom, how flushed his cheeks had become. He moved into the living room after grabbing two glasses of water from the kitchen-- he figured Bucky would need it. After reaching for a newspaper on the small, dingy side table, he began to thumb through it, waiting patiently for Bucky. 

His friend set foot into the apartment about half an hour later, smelling thickly of smoke. Bucky was always careful not to smoke in the home on account of Steve’s asthma, so he had probably decided to take the long way home just to have a cigarette or two. Bucky closed the door behind him before kicking off his shoes and shucking off his jacket. “Hey pal,” he called from the door, “ya still up?”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled, “trouble falling asleep,” he confessed. 

“Aw Stevie I’m sorry,” Bucky walked into the living room and sat down next to him on the couch, gratefully taking the water that Steve had left him. 

“S’alright, wanted to make sure you got home safe anyways.” He closed the newspaper and folded it up on his lap and turned to Bucky; his face was still shiny with his after-glow and his usually carefully styled hair was still the slightest bit messy. Steve felt his heart skip a beat in his chest and an empty, longing feeling bubble in his stomach,  _ he  _ wanted to be the reason that Bucky looked so perfectly untidy.

Bucky chuckled and pulled his free arm around Steve, “thanks pal,” he held up his water before taking a sip. “I’m home just fine, Stevie. Always gonna get home safe fo-”

“Where did you meet her?” Steve abruptly cut him off and pushed Bucky’s arm off of him so he could face him more directly.

Bucky swallowed uncomfortably as his eyebrows raised in shock. “I… Stevie?” He said, clearly confused as he brought the hand that Steve had shoved away to push back his hair. “We met when you and I went out dancing last week,” he shook his head. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like her?”

“Hardly talked to her, Buck,” Steve cast his gaze onto the ground. “I hardly talk to any of the gals you bring home, I hardly talk to gals at  _ all, _ ” he spat. There was much more anger in his voice then he had intended, which he quickly regretted. 

“Jesus Christ, Stevie, you’re not jealous of some floozy I met a week ago, are ya? I know I’m bringing girls ‘round here all the time and… and Stevie I know you don’t tend to get many girls but, but the right one will come one day.” Despite the defensive edge in his voice, he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, pressing his thumb into the boy’s delicate body. “If it bothers ya that much I don’t have to bring them around anymore okay? Say the word and I promise I’ll cut it out.”

Steve stood up, suddenly insecure of himself. “Buck, I’m not jealous of you bringin’ round all those damn girls all the time!” His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt his lungs tighten in his ribcage; he felt as though he was becoming smaller and smaller by the second and his will to hide his secret was diminishing along with that. Without thinking, he threw his hands to his sides and in a final, almost desperate sob, he cried. “Buck, maybe it’s just that seein’ ya bring home all those ‘floozies’ makes me want to be one of the damn floozies you bring home for once!” 

His eyes widened when he realized what he had said and a hand flew to cover his own mouth has heavy tears welled in his eyes. He’d really done it this time; maybe he could get away with pretending that Bucky might one day  _ want  _ him like that, but he knew that those fantasies would never com _ e true.  _ But now he’d said everything aloud and Bucky would think he was disgusting for wanting him like that. Before he could think to say anything else, he ran as fast as he could, without triggering his asthma, into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. 

He hadn’t even caught a look at Bucky’s face, but behind him, he faintly heart Bucky’s footsteps trailing behind him. He didn’t care; all he wanted was to hide from him and pretend he had never said what he did, and he especially wanted to pretend that he hadn’t said it as stupidly as he did. Once the door was shut behind him, he threw himself onto his bed and hid his face in a pillow, the soft fabric cooling the burn in his face. 

When Steve looked up from the pillow, his eyes were peppered with tears and stung when the light hit them. From beneath the door, he could see the shadow of Bucky’s feet; there was a muted tapping at the wooden frame as Bucky spoke from the other side of the door. “Stevie? Open up, please? We can talk about it. I ain’t mad, Stevie. Just… I wanna talk.” His voice sounded unsure, but not angry. Steve shook his head in surprise and was almost seduced by Bucky’s soft, almost lilting tone, to come to the door and let him in. He knew Bucky would never just barge in his room, so he knew the choice really was all up to him. 

He pressed his face back into the pillow and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Steve knew he must have looked like a wreck; whenever he cried, his lips got puffy like a girl’s, his long eyelashes darkened and became clumped up, and skin flushed in blotchy shades of red and pink. He just couldn’t stand to see Bucky when he looked like this, especially after had he had so foolishly said. Instead, his arms tightened around the pillow and he listened to Bucky softly coo at the door, trying to get him to open the door.

Eventually, though, Bucky must have realized how useless the attempt was because the shadow his feet disappeared. Steve heard one more thud against his wall; the sound of Bucky climbing into his own bed. He lifted his head and reached out to touch the wall, hoping that maybe, in some way, Bucky might be longing for him in the same way Steve longed for Bucky. 


	2. Is It Pretending?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He returned to himself, realizing that his hand had been glued to the doorknob, halfway turning it. Steve shook his head, releasing himself from the thoughts and finally committing to turning the doorknob completely. Now it was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the chapter names are from that one ohcaptainmycaptain fic

The next morning, Steve woke up still hunched around his pillow and with a clean, refreshing breeze blowing through his window. For a moment, he didn’t even remember the events of the previous night, but, when he opened his eyes and felt how swollen they were, he remembered  _ everything.  _ He gazed at the door, trying to gauge the possibility of Bucky already being up. If he was lucky, he would be able to get up and get out of the apartment before Bucky was even awake. That would give him until at least the early afternoon before he had to face Bucky about what had happened. 

To Steve’s dismay, though, when he rolled over to look at his alarm clock, it was already half past ten. It was unlikely that Bucky would have slept in that late, especially considering what had happened last night. Despite his trepidations, Steve pushed himself out of his bed and over to his dresser; he decided that he was going to at least try to get out of the apartment if he could. He pulled on a white t-shirt and a pair of khakis then moved to stand in front of his door for a moment. 

Once he opened the door, it would become real. He would have to face Bucky and whatever reaction he had to Steve messily confessing how he feels about him. Steve decided there were only two directions this could go in. 

One is that Bucky yells at him, calls him disgusting and insist that Steve moves out because he didn’t want to live with a fairy, especially not one who was attracted to him. But that didn’t seem like Bucky. They had known each other since childhood and Bucky had always told him that no matter what happens, he would be there for Steve; he would be with Steve until the end of the line. 

  
The second, much less likely option, was that Bucky would confess to having similar feelings for Steve. Though he wanted this more than he had ever wanted anything, it seemed to unrealistic to even pretend like it could happen. Bucky was a skirt chaser, through and through. He was a ladies man. He seemed to be in his element every time he sweeped a beautiful dame off of her feet; why would he ever want someone like Steve?

He returned to himself, realizing that his hand had been glued to the doorknob, halfway turning it. Steve shook his head, releasing himself from the thoughts and finally committing to turning the doorknob completely. Now it was  _ real.  _

He took his first step past the threshold of the door, taking light steps as to not make the cheap wooden floors creak beneath his feet. Maybe, if he was lucky, Bucky would have forgotten about the whole thing, or maybe he would make the decision just to let Steve believe he had forgotten about it by not even bringing it up. Steve would be perfectly content with that. 

“Hey pal,” Bucky said a bit too happily as he heard Steve begin to head into the living room. He was sat on the couch almost anxiously; his leg was bouncing up and down and he was twirling his thumbs. But, most importantly, Steve noticed that he looked  _ nice.  _ He had on a pair of dress pants and a crisp looking button up shirt; he hadn’t even looked that good the previous night, having only worn some less smart looking dress pants and short sleeved button up. Granted, Bucky always looked good, but something about this look seemed intentionally more put together. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve shuffled into the room and practically glued himself to the wall. “You uh, you going somewhere?” He indirectly commented Bucky’s suave dress. 

“Well,” Bucky looked down to the ground and let out a nervous laugh, “that’s uh, that’s up to you.”   


Admittedly, Steve was put off by seeing Bucky this nervous. For as long as he had known Bucky, he had never known Bucky to be outwardly anxious, or even anxious at  _ all _ . There was something unnerving about seeing so worked up that it made Steve begin to feel more concerned than he already had. 

“Oh, I don’t need to see the doctor today,” he said, completely at a loss for what else Bucky could possibly mean. The only reason Steve ever really _needed_ to leave the house was to see the doctor, and Bucky always came with him to his appointments now that his mother had passed away. Steve had once insisted that he didn’t have to, but Bucky had explained that he didn’t like the idea of Steve having to go all alone, so Steve let him, it made the visits feel a little bit easier. “I don’t have an appointment until the end of the week.”

“No, ya punk,” Bucky sighed seeming to relax a little at Steve’s obliviousness. “I wanna uh, what you said yesterday,” Bucky paused for a moment, letting the words linger in the air. 

Steve felt the blood drain from his face and pool in his feet. Bucky had remembered and Bucky wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “Yeah, Bucky, about that. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mea--”

“No,” Bucky cut him off, shaking his head, “Stevie.” He said a bit more firmly, making steve shiver in response. He patted a spot on the couch next to him, signaling for Steve to sit next to him. “I, I’m not mad at you.” He prefaced, trying to ease Steve. 

Steve chewed on his bottom lip nervously; it was still slightly puffed up from the crying he had done the night before. “Sure, yeah.” He said, releasing his lip from beneath his teeth and taking a few, shaky steps to the couch. 

“Stevie, had I known you felt like… like that… for me,” Bucky began, pushing his hair back like he had the night before. 

  
Steve began to prepare for the worst. All of his muscles tensed and his blood went cold in his veins. This was going to be it, just as he predicted. 

“I…” Bucky trailed off, deciding that the words didn’t feel right, “I would have never wasted my time with any of those girls.”

He looked at Bucky in shock, feeling as though his brain had gone blank and that he had misheard everything that Bucky had just said. He shook his head and blinked heavily, only able to choke out a whispered, “what?”

“I would have never wasted my time with all those girls… the floozies… the dames. Every last one of them, Stevie. Had I known you felt like that, I would have never spent a single moment with any go them.” Bucky swallowed again nervously, trying to gauge Steve’s reaction carefully. “I, I never knew how to tell you. I didn’t think you would ever feel the same way, y’know? And I thought you would think I was a creep or anything.” He trailed off.

Steve had no words. There was not a single word that could describe the utter elation that he felt at hearing Bucky say those exact words. He wanted to wrap his arms around Bucky tighter than he ever had before. If he had the muscle mass, he would pick Bucky up and swing him around before setting him down and placing a soft kiss on his perfect lips. But Steve could do none of that, he was paralyzed by his joy. 

“You still with me, pal?” Bucky joked, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder and giving him a small, gentle shake. The touch sent electricity through Steve and he felt the sudden, almost undeniable urge to climb onto Bucky’s lap and be as close to him as possible. He refrained, and gave a small, embarrassed nod in response to Bucky’s question. 

“Good, I’m gonna need you to be with me for this, okay?” Bucky said, releasing Steve’s shoulder. “You had said you uh,” he let out a soft laugh, “wanted to ‘be one of the floozies that I bring home,” he began, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I wanna take you out, show you a good time. I’ve wanted to for… for a long time. I’m not just going to let you off the hook without letting me take you on a proper date.”

Steve couldn’t help but let a smile pull at the corners of his lips; Bucky  _ wanted _ him, Bucky wanted _ him  _ and had for probably about as long as Steve had wanted him. He nodded his head quickly, over and over, as if he didn’t affirm the idea, Bucky would revoke the offer. He tilted his head forward, letting his hair dip over his face as he looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes. “You mean it?” Steve asked, finally able to sputter out more than one word at a time.

“Of course I do, Stevie,” Bucky smiled, raising the hand that had been resting on Steve’s shoulder in favor of softly brushing it over his cheek. Steve, admittedly, was a bit stunned by the action; his skin tightened into goose pimples and he let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. “You know none of those gals mean anything to me, right Steve? It’s always been you,” Bucky confessed. 

Despite the sweet intention of what Bucky was saying, Steve’s mind fell into the gutter as he imagined the possibilities of exactly what he meant. Pushing away the time-inappropriate thoughts. “I...It’s always… I didn’t think you’d ever want me like that… what with all the girls and, and tryna’ set me up,” he enumerated, trying to gather his thoughts and put himself in the moment, “I’ve wanted you for so  _ long.”  _ His lips formed around the words and he almost couldn’t believe he was able to say the words; his cheeks grew hot with something that felt like self-consciousness.   

Bucky nodded his head knowingly and smirked at Steve. There seemed to be an unspoken apology that lingered between them. He didn’t need Bucky to say any more in order for him to know that Bucky was just as scared as Steve had been; he was scared that Steve would think Bucky’s attraction to him was unnatural or perverted. “I knew you’d never want any of those gals, none of them were good enough for ya,” Bucky looked down at Steve, a smirk still painting his face. 

“You’re good enough for me,” Steve blurted without thinking, “you’ve more than good enough,” Steve repeated his sentiment, this time more confident. It was true, he thought, Bucky was more than he could ever really deserve. 

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve and pulled him close; Steve let himself be repositioned by him and allowed himself to curve and bed against him, taking in his warmth. “Nah punk,” Bucky laughed, resting his chin on Steve’s head, “no one’s good enough for you.”

Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky’s chest; it wasn’t nearly as soft or forgiving as the cheap pillow he had been clutching onto that night. Bucky was soft but still behind it there was a distinct firmness that Steve was always able to recognize. Whenever Bucky would hug him, he would always make sure to relish the feeling, but he always had to make sure not to linger too long. But now, he felt free to nuzzle himself against Bucky’s chest and not feel the need to pull away at a certain time. “No, Buck,” he muttered, not feeling as though he had to explain why Bucky was too much for him.

  
Bucky had always been there for Steve; from the moment they met, they were inseparable. After Sarah had passed though, for some reason that Steve doesn’t fully understand, Bucky had made them pseudo-partners in life. Steve did as much as he could to make Bucky feel like it was worthwhile, but Bucky never even seemed to mind having to do all that he did. He had nursed Steve back to health more times than he could even remember, financially provided for both of them, and, more often than not, made their meals. Bucky knew that Steve  _ could _ do some of those things and more in order to make Bucky’s life a little easier, but Bucky only ever took the minimum amount of help from Steve that was absolutely needed. Other than that, Bucky’s main concern was always what he could do for Steve. Truthfully, Steve never felt like he couldn’t be loved so well by anyone else. 

Bucky rested a hand on the back of his head and softly ruffled Steve’s hair. “C’mon pal,” Bucky said, “I wanna take ya out. Just like I do with all the gals, yeah? You’re gonna be my best guy tonight, and the next night, and the next night, and the next night,” Bucky sang, his voice becoming increasingly cheerful with each word. He patted both of Steve’s shoulders and pulled the younger man away from his chest. “Go put on somethin’ nice,” Bucky said, winking at Steve, “I wanna show ya off to all of Brooklyn.”

“We goin’ somewhere nice?” Steve asked, noting Bucky’s air of mischievousness.

“You’ll see,” Bucky teased, dragging out the end of his word as his mouth curled into a toothy, dorky grin.

Steve hopped off of the couch and went to his room. He pulled off the white t-shirt and threw it on his bed. As he sifted through the drawers looking for a good shirt to wear, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall. He couldn’t help but stare at himself as he absentmindedly picked up shirts, examined them, and deemed them unworthy to wear on his first date with Bucky. All the girls he’d ever seen Bucky with were larger than Steve; they had skinny waists, soft chests, and broad shoulders and hips, all perfectly accentuated by whatever dress they were wearing. They all seemed to have a healthy glow about them. Steve, however, was small and skinny. He hardly needed to bend his body in order for his ribs to poke out beneath his skin, which was thin and an unattractive pale. He wasn’t curvy like Bucky’s girls; his body seemed to flow in one almost straight line; there was nothing on him that Bucky could grab onto.

As he studied his appearance, Steve blankly wondered if Bucky would want to touch him in the same way that he touched all the girls. He tried to shove the thought away, but he could hardly help the way his cock grew a bit hard in his khakis as he imagined Bucky wanting him in  _ that  _ way, too. Though, despite how enticing it was, he tried to push it away; he was sure Bucky only wanted him in a romantic way. There were so many  _ beautiful _ people, why would Bucky settle for someone like Steve?

Steve finally rid himself of the thought as he pulled on a clean white t-shirt. Over it, he shrugged on a white button up long sleeve dress shirt. He was pleased with his dressing but, after careful thought, secured brown striped suspenders to the top of his khakis and pulled them his shoulders. He carefully adjusted the metal adjusters to make them absolutely even. Finally, he grabbed his muted green jacket off of a hook and wrapped himself in it. 

He stepped out of his room and back into the living room with Bucky. His own hands were dug deeply into his pockets as though he were trying to turn inwards on himself with all the anxiousness and apprehension he felt. Bucky, uncharacteristically, seemed almost as nervous as he stood up as offered his arm for Steve, escorting them out. 


End file.
